


Angel on the Air

by gimmicks



Series: Reaper76 Week 2017 [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Advanced Technology, Alternate Universe - Future, Fluff, Jack falls in love with Gabe's voice, Lots of fancy tech, M/M, Radio Host Gabe, Salesman Jack, Shameless song plug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9387677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmicks/pseuds/gimmicks
Summary: Jack's mere existence is an endless barrage of bad luck, from his termination to his lack of social life. His only refuge takes the form of a smooth, melodic voice that carries all his troubles away.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work was written for Reaper76 Week 2017 under the prompt "Over The Airwaves" - Voice/Music.

Jack slides further down in his sit, tipping his head forward. He closes his eyes; his headache is only made worse by the bright lights of the subway overhead. The dull throb inside his skull occupies his thoughts, but he pushes the pain away, thinking back on his day. 

 

Work had been shitty, as always – then again, when had it ever been good? Smartphone sales were plummeting with the release of the new holopad tech, and the company was taking a big hit. More and more of the cubicles around him began to empty out; rumor was that the entire sales department was cut in half last month, and stock shares were falling as well. Jack can tell as well as anyone that in a few months, he’ll be let go, flung to the street like yesterday’s garbage.

 

He sighs, looks out the window at the synthetic city. The sun silhouettes the sprawling metropolis; skyscrapers reach up, fingers yearning to touch the sky, glass reflecting the light just so to create a halo of red. It looks beautiful, he thinks, as he gazes across the horizon.

 

Turning to slide back into his seat, he pulls out his smartphone. It’s one of the ones his company sells – he is nothing if not loyal – and he glances around, glad nobody is looking as he taps in the unlock code.

 

He pulls up a game on his phone, absentmindedly playing his way through a few levels. Soon enough, boredom gnaws at his brain, and he closes out of the app with a sigh. Conveniently enough, the subway slides seamlessly to a stop, and the readout above the door displays his stop. He stands, stretches, groans as the muscles in his back pop. The doors slide open, revealing the run-down subway platform he steps onto.

 

The short walk to his home relaxes him, takes the pressure off his pounding head. He inhales deeply; clean, fresh air runs through his nose. Pollution has been eradicated over the past few years; Jack remembers what it was like, when the skies were filled with smog and dust, an invisible poison to an ever-evolving urban society; he marvels at the myriad of problems the new tech has solved.

 

His apartment building is a narrow strip nestled into the long procession of buildings running down the street. Balconies line the front of the building; one of the doors is open, and a curtain flutters in the breeze. The doors slide open to reveal the sleek interior; everything is automated these days, but the complex still has its trusty doorman.

 

“Hello, Jack!” Reinhardt booms. “I see you have returned from the city! How was your day?”  
“Same as always, Rein.” He can feel a small smile tugging at his lips. “I hope things weren’t too boring here without me.”

 

Reinhardt gives a jovial grin. “Oh, it was horrible. Nobody here for me to harass! Imagine the pain I have gone through.” His shoulders shake with laughter.

 

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m back then. Wouldn’t want to put you through it any more than I have to.” Jack makes his way to the elevator, eyes drooping; he didn’t realize how tired he really is. “Well, I wish I could chat more, but I’m about to drop dead. I’m gonna head up to my room.”

 

Reinhardt’s face drops a tad, but he keeps up his uplifting demeanor. “Ah, we wouldn’t want that happening, would we? Rest well, Jack, I will see you come morning.”

 

The elevator chimes, and the doors slide open. Jack looks over his shoulder at the large man sitting behind the desk, tossing a “Goodnight, Rein” in his direction. He hits the button for his floor, and the doors slide closed.

 

\----------

 

The door swings open, and Jack stumbles through. He drops his keys into the bowl by the door with a soft _clink_ , shouldering his bag into the chair settled in his foyer. He toes off his shoes, pads over to the kitchen and swings open the fridge. A carton of milk sits on the top shelf. The expiration date isn’t _too_ old; Jack shrugs, uncapping the box and taking a swig. Tastes fine to him.

 

He trots to his bedroom, flopping down onto the bed and taking another drink. As he lies sprawled on the starchy sheets, his headache returns with a vengeance; the dull throbbing in the back of his head increases to a roar, and when he closes his eyes, spots dance through his vision. He’s had these kinds of headaches before, knows there’s only one way to fix them.

 

He pulls the holoscreen up; the glowing interface hovers over the bed, bathing him in a soft blue. He glances at the clock in the corner. He has perfect timing; it’s about to start.

 

Screen after screen whooshes by as he swipes through his multitude of applications before settling on one. He opens it with a motion akin to stretching out a piece of gum; familiar waves blink onto the screen as the radio opens.

 

The settings are already as he likes them, and the sound of guitars fills the small room. Jack closes his eyes, humming along; this song is a common choice on the station, and he knows all the words, but chooses not to sing.

 

The song winds down, and a man’s voice comes over the radio. “That was Vapour by Vancouver Sleep Clinic, hope y’all enjoyed it.” His accent is prevalent in the way he shapes his vowels; the southwest, Jack thinks. Maybe Texas or New Mexico. “And with that, it is now 9:00, time for me to be off. I promise, this next fella’ll treat you real nice; he’s got the voice of an angel, real soothing, so you’re in good hands. This is McCree, signing off.”

 

A quick shuffle, and another voice comes over the line. “Hello listeners, this is Reaper, live at 9 on WVIT.” The man’s voice runs over his ears, a cascade of soothing sound, and he can feel the pounding in his head recede. “It’s nice to be back with all you listeners tonight. I thought I would tell you guys a little story about today. The most interesting thing…”

 

Jack quickly loses most of the meaning, instead focusing on the man’s low rumble, filling his senses as he closes his eyes and falls back onto the bed. He’s been listening to Reaper every night for the past month, after discovering the man’s voice one night while browsing through the stations. Something about the cadence of his voice comforts Jack, cradles him in an embrace of soft sounds. His headache is gone now, but Jack continues to listen, focusing back in on the man’s words.

 

“…that is the funniest thing, huh? At least, I thought so. Anyway, that was my story, now let’s hear some of yours. We’re gonna go ahead and take some calls.”

 

This is Jack’s favorite part; he pulls out his smartphone, dials the number for the station. He’s a little embarrassed he has it memorized; either way, he presses the phone to his ear as it rings.  
“Hello, you’re on with Reaper. How are you doing today, stranger?”

 

Jack smiles. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I’m much of a stranger.”

 

“It’s you! I was wondering when you’d call again, it’s been too long.”

 

“Well, I’ve been busy” – that’s a lie, he was just too afraid of accidentally revealing his feelings towards the man – “but I’m back again. How is my favorite Reaper doing today?”

 

Reaper launches into a tirade about his day, detailing an incident involving a waitress at a restaurant in the city. Jack laughs along, poking fun at him when he reveals he accidentally tripped her and ruined a coffee pot. He asks Jack about his day as well; although he is touched, Jack gives a nondescript answer as always. He’s well aware his life is slowly going down the toilet, and these talks with Reaper are the one solace he has from the downward spiral he’s caught in.

 

Soon, he realizes it’s nearing 9:30. He can feel his eyelids drooping; he is really getting old. “I think I’m gonna have to be going,” he says into the phone.

 

“Aww, and here I thought we were gonna talk all night.” Reaper sounds genuinely sad at his departure; Jack is surprised, even though he sounds like this every time they have to part.

 

“As much as I’d love to do that, I have things to do tomorrow. Don’t wanna fall asleep on the job, something crazy like that.”

 

Reaper chuckles; he thinks he can feel the vibrations running down his body. “Alright, well, I’ll let you go. Good to talk to you, uh-”

 

Jack’s spine bristles; he realizes Reaper doesn’t know his name, isn’t sure he wants the general public listeners to know it either. Eventually, his affection towards Reaper wins over. “It’s, uh – it’s Jack.”

 

“Jack. That’s a nice name. See you, Jack.”

 

“See you, Reaper.”

 

He hits the disconnect button, and the call ends. Dismissing the radio app, he swipes the holoscreen back into dormancy, pulling back the covers on his bed. He plugs his phone into the wall, settling into his mattress.

 

As always, his thoughts drift back to Reaper. He knows it’s a ridiculous thought, but he wants to hear the man speak more, wants to _see_ him, put a face to those beautiful words. It’s cliché, he knows, but he feels a connection with Reaper, a deeper bond, and he thinks the other man feels it too.

 

He bats the thoughts away; it’s silly – even if he did want to meet the Reaper, what would he do? Go to wherever the station broadcasts from and ask to meet the man? Jack scoffs; even the thought of embarrassing himself that badly is outrageous. He’ll just have to make due with that voice.

 

And what a voice it is.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I am a fairly new writer, and this work was unbetaed, so if you spot any errors or have constructive criticism, feel free to leave a comment below or shoot me a message on my [tumblr.](http://actualfatherjackmorrison.tumblr.com)
> 
> Although I didn't realize it until after I wrote it, a lot of this was based off _Her_ , Spike Jonze's 2014 film about a man who falls in love with an AI. It's an awesome movie, and I would suggest watching it.
> 
> I kinda want to expand on this universe, but I'm not sure where I'd go with it. If you would like me to write more for this, feel free to show your support in the comments as well - I'm always up for a good old-fashioned ego boost.


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